


what can i give that is all for you? (these arms are all i have)

by orphan_account



Category: Atypical (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/F, Hopeful Ending, god i fkugjhing love these two, referenced abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-16 18:27:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21275708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: 'All Casey wants is to somehow make this better. Whatever it is, she wants to be able to fix it, if only because she doesn't think her heart can take seeing Izzie like this again. Not ever.'





	what can i give that is all for you? (these arms are all i have)

The phone rings at two in the morning.

Casey thinks, at first, that it's a part of her dream. Some unconscious fiction she can ignore away. But then the buzzing seems to grow harsher and she becomes more and more lucid until eventually she forces her eyes open and groans into her pillow. She fumbles sleepily for her phone and blinks at it in frustration until the caller ID finally comes into focus. Casey is upright in an instant.

"Izzie?" she croaks, voice slurred by the remnants of a deep slumber. Initially, there is no reply; only what sounds to Casey like heavy, jagged breathing. Is Izzie running? Not at this time, surely. "Why are you panting? I don't know if this is your attempt to be creepy or, like, sexy but either way... it's working." She begins to laugh, rubbing her tired eyes with her palm, but Izzie isn't laughing. Only breathing, hard. That's when Casey frowns. Something's wrong. "Izzie, what is it? Are you okay?"

"Casey."

It's one word, two syllables, so quiet and strained that it could almost be mistaken for another shaky exhale. But it's enough - enough for Casey to know that Izzie needs her. "Where are you?" she asks, switching on the lamp and already out of bed. She doesn't bother with a change of clothes, only grabs her trainers.

"I'm..." Izzie struggles to speak between gasps. "I'm at the park."

"The park near your house?" Casey finishes lacing her trainers. "I'm coming. Stay on the phone with me."

She reaches the park in record time, taking her dad's truck and not thinking to care if he finds out. Izzie does stay on the phone but Casey isn't able to prompt a coherent word out of her so she just drives and focuses on getting there. She parks as close as she can and scrambles out of the car, eyes flitting rapidly as she scans her surroundings for Izzie. The park isn't very big - it's more of a playground, really - but it's a dark night and the lone lamplight humming nearby is far too dim to illuminate very much save for the bench directly beneath it. When Casey's eyes finally adjust, however, she spots Izzie up the hill, sitting with hunched shoulders on the swing. 

"I see you," says Casey into the phone, and Izzie's head rises. 

Casey starts towards her and Izzie stands, walks forward, but by the time Casey has jogged the distance between them Izzie's legs are giving way. With tears streaming down her face, she sinks to her knees just in time for Casey to wrap her arms around her and ease the impact her knees make on the ground. Casey is wide eyed, in shock, concerned. Still, she allows Izzie to cry herself out there in the dewy grass, clinging fast to Casey and soaking her hoodie through with thick, relentless tears. She strokes her hair, whispers over and over again "It's okay, you're okay, it's okay" even though it doesn't seem to be okay; even though Izzie is shaking with something deeper than the cold. All Casey wants is to somehow make this better. Whatever it is, she wants to be able to fix it, if only because she doesn't think her heart can take seeing Izzie like this again. Not ever.

It takes a while but in time, Izzie's breathing begins to even out and the tears stop coming. Casey is desperate to get to the bottom of this, but Izzie's skin feels like ice and her teeth haven't stopped chattering, so first she tells her "Come home with me." And Izzie doesn't protest.

Casey offers Izzie her hoodie and leads her back to the car, one arm still tight around her shoulders. They drive in silence, Casey's gaze intermittently flickering sideways at Izzie. There are a million questions lodged in her throat. She voices none of them until they get home; until they're sitting on the sofa and Casey is pressing a steaming mug of hot chocolate into Izzie's hands because it's the one thing she can definitely do for her. A small act of kindness she's certain makes no difference at all. Izzie mumbles a thank you as Casey sits down beside her, feet tucked up and arm resting on the seat cushion behind Izzie. She waits for Izzie to take a meagre sip before breaking their silence, tentative and calm as she can muster.

"What happened tonight?"

Izzie’s eyes are glassy; for a moment Casey is terrified she might start crying again. She doesn’t. Rather, she rubs at her wrists, shrugs, says “Same thing that always happens.”

Casey understands. “Family.” She understands but she doesn’t, really, because Casey knows she’s always been loved and protected by her parents even when she hates them; even amidst the worst of it. She’s not sure Izzie has ever had that same simple comfort. The thought hits her like a freight train and she takes Izzie’s hand in her own. Izzie winces, and that’s when Casey notices something she hadn’t earlier. There’s a large, dark bruise forming on Izzie’s wrist. Izzie jerks her hand away in vain; pulls the sleeve of Casey’s hoodie over the damage.

“What the hell is that? Izzie?” Casey demands, but the violent rage sieging her senses suggests she already knows the answer. “Did your mom do that to you?”

Izzie’s respondent silence is all the answer she needs.

“Oh my god, dude, we need to call someone or, or, tell someone,” starts Casey, making to rise. “We need to do something."

“What? No,” Izzie says, pulling Casey back down to the sofa with a tug at her elbow. “Are you crazy? If this gets out, I could be separated from my brothers. I’m not risking that. I won’t let anybody take them away from me. You understand that, right? You can’t tell anybody about this.”

“But - but why does she get away with it? Why does she get to hurt you,” Casey’s voice breaks here and she feels her own eyes fill with tears. “And get away with it?”

“I mean, I don’t think she meant to,” Izzie offers feebly. “She was just drunk and she grabbed me and it got out of hand. I took my brothers to our grandma’s house but I couldn’t breathe or think or sit still so I took off. Just started running. When I realised I had no place to go I called you. Usually I can handle my shit on my own but it’s getting - I don’t know, it seems like it’s getting worse lately. Or I’m just getting too tired to handle it.” Izzie fixes Casey with a wrenching look. “I’m so tired, Casey."

Casey’s cheek is wet. She hadn’t noticed the first tear escape but now she sits there and cries quietly for this girl whom she loves and doesn’t know how to help. “I know you are,” Casey nods. “I know, and I’m glad you called me. You can’t keep doing this alone, Izzie; I don’t think anyone is built to handle that kind of shit. Everyone needs someone.”

Izzie wipes a tear from Casey’s cheek with her thumb and Casey takes her hand, presses a long kiss to her knuckles. 

“I’m happy you’re my someone,” confesses Izzie. 

Casey sighs sadly. “I’m gonna spirit you away one day. I’m gonna come galloping along on a big old white horse and give you my hand and say ‘where to, miss?’ and we’ll go anywhere in the world. Anywhere in the world you can get to on horseback. So be realistic, all right? I’m not a miracle worker, here.”

Izzie is laughing and the sound alleviates the crushing helplessness weighing down on Casey, if only a little, if only for a moment. “Will you be wearing shining armour?” asks Izzie, shifting so that she’s facing Casey and resting her head on the back of the sofa near Casey’s free hand. Casey absently begins to twirl a lock of Izzie’s hair around her fingers.

“Uh-uh,” Casey shakes her head. Her eyes are still wet but if the only thing it is in her power to do is bring a smile to Izzie’s face, she’ll damn well do it or turn blue in the face trying. “I’m gonna be completely, buck-ass naked. With a top hat on.”

Izzie’s smile deepens further. “That’s good. It’s warm in California.”

The corner of Casey’s mouth quirks upwards. UCLA. Their shared goal. Suddenly, it seems less like a task to accomplish and more like some shining beacon at the end of a very long and very dark tunnel. It seems like hope in the form of year long sunshine and nights spent getting tipsy on the beach and running together, away from everything they’ve left behind, until their muscles are burning and their hearts are pounding and they’re free at last.

“We’ll get there,” promises Casey. “We’ll make a new home. A better one. Some place you’re always safe and there’s always a cupboard stock full of twizzlers.”

Izzie looks down at their interlocked fingers and though her face is still red and the pain still raw, there is a quietly hopeful gleam in her eyes. She shrugs one shoulder. “I’ve found a home already.” She meets Casey’s eye and eternities pass in the second they spend looking into one another. Casey kisses her and right then it feels like none of the kisses they’ve had until that moment have ever meant half as much. It’s chaste and tastes like salt but it’s the most genuine vow Casey has ever made.

“Real talk, what’s the rent like on this new home? Is there a garden?” Casey jokes when their lips detach.

“Shut up,” Izzie says, but she’s laughing again and then she’s pressing her lips against Casey’s again and everything feels better again and it’s only temporary but it’s enough. For now, it’s enough just to have each other and the dreams they share.


End file.
